Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1887-11-06
A WINTER NIGHT.
BOSTON Trarelfr.

The Rev. John Mortimer, his tall form
clad in a faded dressing gown, sat in a
shabby little room, which he used as a
study, with an unfinished sermon lying on
the desk before him. 1t was clear that his
mind was on other things, for the pen in his
hand was idle, and his face looked preoc-
cupied.
For forty years John Mortimer had
preached in the plain church en- the hill;
for forty-five years he had gone in and out
before the people, ministering to them in
the sorrows and sp%mpathizing in their ex-
periences of good and i'll.
When he became their minister he was
Just turned thirty, strong and vigorous.
Now he was an old man. His hair was
white, his face grave, and his path lay
partly in shadow, for he had had his share
of sorrows.
His wife, the faithful partner of his life,
was still living; but only n of his chill
dren were with him. A son mad left home
ten years before, in disgrace, after wasting
his mothers little fortune only 81, 0OO-
and involving his father in debt, which
only by the most painful economy had he
been able to pay ont of his scanty stipend.
In fact it was less than twelve months
since it was wholly paid up, and the min
lister was able to draw the breath of a free
man. The son had disappeared, no one
knowing where he went. He might be
living, but was probably dead.
The other child was Kate, older than her
brother, and without his faults. She had
been o good daughter, and made a good
rriEa 20 IlanEp Tlorly A lru nnn1o pnCrnhonf
in the next village. She had three chill
dren, and for years her husband had been
able to give her q comfortable support.
But a dull time came. To exc out a fall
ing trade he rushed into speculation, and
died a month before, leaving literally moth.
ing. What was she to doP
my dear child" wrote her mother,
come back to your old home, and bring
the children with you. While we have a
loaf, you and my dear grandchildren shall
have their share. Don't trouble yourself
about the means Of living. Let us trust
the Lord as we always have done. He will
find a way Of providing what we need"
There was nothing to do but accept the
invitation. Kate came with her children,
and for a month the old parsonage had
been less quiet than of yore. The voices
of childhood were heard in the old-fash-
toned rooms, and the minister found il
harder, in the unaccustomed din, to col
lect his thoughts and write his sermons
But for that he would not have cared, for
his heart yearned toward his daughters
children. There was another cause of anX'
iety. He found that the small income
that had supported himself and his old
wife comfortably was not large enough for
his increased family. Slowly hut surely
he was drifting into debt. Had he been
. young man, or even a man of middle
sge, it would have mattered less, but he
had passed his SEVENTEEN birthday. Life
and death were precious, and the prospect
of continued employment not certain. he
knew that some Of the younger people
were getting FESTIVE. They had got tired
of the white-haired minister, Ind desired
a younger man. He would have resigned
gladly, but how could he? To resign
/, would leave him without an income, and
he and his good wife could not live on air.
And it was at this unfortunate time that
his daughter and her children came home,
As no sat with anxious brow his wife en-
tered the study.
''You are writing your sermon, Johu?''
she said inquiringly.
81 am trying to-" he said, laying down
his pen with a sigh, ''but 1 don't feel in
the mood"
"You look sober, John, " said Mrs. Nor
timer in a tone of solicitude.
81 feel anxious, Hannah. I am drifting
into debt, and / don't see how it can b
avoided"
Poor Kate! She feels it, too" said the
mother in a low voice. Only yesterday
she asked me if / didn't think she could
get a chance to teach in one Of the villag,
schools."
'she is not strong enough. Besides
she mas her children to look after"
"I know it, but your salary will mo-
support US all"
THAT is not all, Hannah" said the min
lister, sadly. "Idon't know how long ",